


Low-Balling

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-16
Updated: 2004-05-16
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Sometimes, Justin just can't resist; spoilers up through 409.





	Low-Balling

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Spoilers for season four up through 409; inspired by a lovely [picture](http://img16.photobucket.com/albums/v47/spazziemonkey/draw/nutbar.png) by Spaggel; dedicated to the girlies on Team Brian Ball Humour. 

\--

A few weeks after Brian had his surgery, the advertising executive was almost completely back on his feet. He was healing nicely, no doubt thanks to the precision of the doctors who had painstakingly removed his cancerous left testicle and replaced it with a shiny prosthetic of comparable size and weight. 

Justin, also, had been a real trooper about the whole ordeal. When Brian had turned coat and tried to hide himself away from everybody once the diagnosis was made, the blond had stuck it out, putting up with his lover's moodyness and temporarily kicking him out; hugged him when Brian had desolately laid there staring at the ceiling and numbly letting the lit cigarette between his fingers burn; brought him soup and soft kisses to accompany the harsh reality of the words he bit out that Brian needed to hear. 

But now that Brian was better, now that Kinnetic had snagged a few major clients and was able to hold itself up steadily on its own feet, now that Melanie had fallen into the comfortable stage of her pregnancy and Emmett and Ted were on light speaking terms again and Deb was slightly less depressed at Vic's departure from the mortal coil and Michael and Ben were playing house with a kid who was legally theirs ... now Justin could allow himself to think about his career and life a bit. The worst was over -- frivolities could enter into the picture without a nagging sense of guilt. 

And now that Brian had become accustomed to being a one-balled wonder, Justin couldn't help poking fun at him once in a while. He knew he shouldn't, knew that Brian and he and *they* had been through enough to last ten surgeries, knew that if anybody else walked into Brian's bedroom singing a modified version of a commercial jingle for peanuts ("sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't; sometimes you have two nuts --"), or made a point to only give his lover one meatball on his plate of spaghetti at dinnertime, Brian would rip them a new asshole without blinking. But Justin also knew that Brian loved him more than pretty much anything, so he occasionally let himself go. Sometimes. At rare moments.

"I didn't know you liked baseball," Brian muttered at his lover one Sunday afternoon; Justin shrugged and bit into a pork rind, then reached for a frosty mug of some cheap brand of beer that Brian would never in a million years have purchased himself. "Suuuteeeriiike!" the umpire shouted from the television, holding up his fingers in a victory sign. "Two balls!"

"Wouldn't it have been weird if you'd been born with three testicles, Brian?" Justin asked as the batter struck out for the third time. "I mean, then if one became cancerous, you'd still have a completely normal set." 

"Yeah, 'weird'," Brian said, irritated. "In that I never would have gotten laid at Babylon in the first place and would have had to resort to jerking off in the privacy of my own home for my entire pathetic life." He paused. "That must be how Theodore feels all the time." It was a humbling thought.

The two men turned back to the game; the first batter, having struck out, had been replaced by a young Latino man who managed, with one swing, to knock the first ball out of the park. "You see, Justin," Brian acknowledged smugly. "It's not the amount of balls you have to work with; it's what you do with them."

Justin shrugged. "Whatever you say, Brian." The blond crumpled up the now empty bag of pork rinds and reached for the small tin container sitting next to where his feet were propped up on Brian's coffee table to continue his mid-day gorging. Pulling off the lid, he held it out to his lover with a grin. "Nuts?"


End file.
